Soldiers make good targets

Budget cuts kill soldiers

A shot breaks the cold, dark silence
Echoes a short sharp crack of thunder
To kill the stillness of the night
And tear your heart into asunder

Second tour in a foreign land
Final patrol to get your head down
Muzzle flash on the horizon
Death's toll becomes inbound

Bullets fly with a blazing tail
Powder ignites as the shot is true
Absent armour on the budget cut
Pierce the skin and rip right through

Forward March to dead procession
The pain reaps the life within
You fall to your knees and then the ground
First casualty as the battle begins

Voices call from distant climes
Muffled as guns fire at their mark
A final breath as the soul departs
Leaving body to venture into the dark